


Mixed Media

by montes-carpatus (Carpathyah)



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Art School, Drabble Collection, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-03-25 05:38:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 12,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3798772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carpathyah/pseuds/montes-carpatus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Art History classes brought together some of the most unlikely students.<br/>Drabbles in the College AU in which Ryan is a Theater Major and Jon is a Design Major.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. introduction: forgetting lines

**Author's Note:**

> for maris.

Ryan had walking into Jon’s life completely by surprise. They sat beside each other in their compulsory Art History class, and the professor had asked the class to get acquainted with the person sitting closest to them. He sat two seats to his right, drinking diet coke out of a classic glass bottle, wearing a jacket too old and too big for him, his jeans had seen better days, and was that a copy of Anna Karenina on his lap?    
  


“Hi, my name is Ryan.”   
  


“I’m Jon.”   
  


The gap was closed and next class, they found each other again. Jon would doodle during the lecture and Ryan would mumble his lines to himself. Theatre met Design, and when Ryan asked if he would come join him during his rehearsals after class, Jon didn’t decline. The theater building was farther away than Jon thought but little did he know he was going to make that walk every day.    
  


Ryan didn’t seem to fit against the white walls of Jon’s shared studio. Hell, Jon’s clean cut jeans clashed against Ryan’s ripped ones. He would pull up a stool and sit beside Jon as he watched the drawings from his sketchbook become crisp and clean onto the computer.    
  


It wasn’t uncommon anymore to find Ryan waiting for him after class, or Jon wandering around the theater department to find inspiration for the poster he had agreed to make for the end of semester programming. Their art history class was only another meet-up.    
  


Jon’s classmates would whisper as Ryan just sat near Jon and read his book. Technically, only design students were allowed in the labs but, Ryan slipped through the rules because it was Jon and he seemed like such a close friend now.    
  


When Ryan’s classmates had asked him who was he, the news of a design major in their building was new. Even more that Jon agreed to work on projects for them. It was a different atmosphere for either of them.   
  


Jon had gone from the seats of the theater to working behind the scenes, reciting lines with Ryan despite being unable to act well.    
  


“Recite these lines with me, Jon,” Ryan passed him a rolled up copy of the script. He was in full costume when the play wasn’t for another week. Ryan loved to act in full costume and Jon never questioned it. They stood on the stage of an empty theatre. Jon furrowed his eyes at the lines as he re-read them over and over to get a sense of character. He would play the voice of a woman named Francesca and Ryan would be Paolo.    
  


Ryan looked at his script and directed where Jon should stand. His heart beating hard in his chest over nerves. The uncertainty in front of him made it hard to envelope his character completely. His hands twisted and scrunched the paper.   
  


“I don’t think we should do this anymore, Paolo!” Jon tried to act out but he was laughing too hard at his awful acting to take it seriously. Ryan had moved from one end of the stage to him and pulled him into an embrace. Jon’s laughter stopped as he gripped onto his costume to keep himself up. Ryan’s blue eyes were large and his brown hair wasn’t styled and touched Jon’s cheeks.    
  


“I don’t think I can let you stay with him forever, Francesca,” Ryan spoke his lines as he remembered them. He was gripping onto Jon’s side even tighter.    
  


“I don’t remember my lines,” Jon said, swallowing what had accumulated in his mouth.   
  


Ryan smiled and broke character. “I only love you.”    
  


“Is that my line?” Jon asked.   
  


“Yeah. And then you kiss me.”   
  


Ryan was afraid that Jon wouldn’t reciprocate the idea but Jon furrowed his eyebrows and surprised him:   
  


“I only love you,” he said before pressing his lips against his. Ryan couldn’t hold up Jon anymore and they both fell onto the stage with an echoing boom. “Was that a good kiss?” he asked in pain.   
  


“Yeah, very convincing,” Ryan answered over him. “Think we can rehearse that again?”    
  


“Sure,” Jon smiled as Ryan leaned back down to lay the second kiss.    
  


The costume was getting itchy. 


	2. backstage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> first day (of rehearsal)

Ryan entering the studio was a different experience when he was a lover more than just a friend. Jon had gone back to his apartment the evening stressing over if Ryan only kissed him only in character. He barely slept as he half-assedly worked on the readings for the class until the early hours of the morning.   
  


“Good morning, I brought you coffee,” he had two mason jars in his hands that he put next to Jon.   
  


“Morning, thanks,” he opened the jar and took a sip from it before going back to work. Ryan’s presence was comforting and agitating at the same time. Ryan placed his head on his shoulder, letting the vibrations from Jon clicking his mouse disturb the peace.  
  


He didn’t move until the time on the computer was the last possible minute before he had to leave for his Theatre Administration class.  He got up from his stool and Jon jolted to look up at him. His purple sweater was pushed up to his sleeves, his hat was a stupid shade of highlighter orange, his t-shirt was blue once upon a time, and his jeans had holes larger than his fist.    
  


“Are you coming to see me after class?” he asked.   
  


“Of course I am, I’m almost done the poster, I swear,” Jon stuttered, afraid to see him go. Ryan chuckled and leaned over to kiss him before picking up his school bag and waving goodbye. Jon was in awe as he waved back.  
  


“About fucking time, Jon,” his classmate shouted from their desk. Jon’s face reddened as he buried his face in his arms.   
  


***

Ryan couldn’t kiss his co-actor the same again. He would look over from the stage to Jon, who was sitting in the seats sketching for whatever assignment he had. He looked up time to time to see what he was up to but that’s all. When it came to kissing her, it was forced and he wanted to pull away as soon as he could.   
  


“C’mon Ryan, put more emotion into it, she’s trying to push you away so she can go back to her boring life with your careless brother,” the director told him after he yelled ‘cut’.

“Yeah, I’m trying,” he replied as he pushed his hair back in place as he moved back onto his place onto the stage. He re-did the scene, trying to imagine he was kissing Jon instead of her. It must’ve worked because they finished the scene without a problem.   
  


When he went backstage to change out of his costume, Jon was talking to the director and a few other students about the poster. Seemed like they enjoyed his sketches. 

“Hey Jon,” Ryan greeted to get his attention. Jon turned with big eyes to meet him. Ryan could find the ways he was nervous about their new relationship in how he clutched his sketchbook tighter and didn’t want to advance unless he did first.  
  


Ryan knew that Jon had seem him change out of costume before. Him too, felt different as he removed his white tights and cotton undershirt to reveal skin. Jon didn’t look at him and continued talking like he wasn’t standing half-naked in the dressing room.   
  


He yawned, his inability to finish the damn scene pushed rehearsal until 11:30pm and all he wanted to do was go back to his apartment and sleep. 

“C’mon, it’s late,” Ryan told him and together they left the theatre building.  
  


While it seemed like they were going back to the same place, they had to split at the corner.   
  


“Goodnight, see you in the morning for art history,” Jon said. Ryan took a step forward and placed a gentle kiss on Jon’s mouth.  
  


“Goodnight, see you then,” he smiled before leaving another dorky kiss on his cheek.    
  


Beds became lonelier. 


	3. test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Studying more than just readings.

What were mid-terms without a couple of drinks in Ryan’s apartment? This exam was in less than twenty-four hours but Jon was on his third bottle of beer and he was only on the first assigned reading. Ryan was barely sitting on his seat normally anymore, his legs were over his head and he had a book over his face.

“I don’t think I can study anymore,” Ryan said through the pages. Jon’s eyes were barely focusing on the words and could only pick out a few keywords that he believed were good enough to ingest. Ryan tossed the reading aside and opened up a new one. Renaissance art was getting old, very fast. “Jon, come here,” Ryan directed. 

Jon got up and made his way to Ryan, who looked like he was going to slip off very soon. 

“Everything okay, Ryan?”

“No.”

Jon was intoxicatedly concerned and ripped the book off his face. Ryan looked up at Jon with big blue eyes that could become a character in the blink of an eye. 

“You’re lying,” Jon sat down next to him. Ryan turned his head.

“No, because there is this beautiful man in my apartment,” Ryan drunkenly replied. It was enough to get Jon blushing. There was a silence, a heavy-hearted, drunken, silence.

“You’re not helping this study situation, we should get back to going over our notes,” Jon said as he stared at all the papers on the floor alongside the empty bottles of beer. 

Ryan reached out for Jon as he tried standing up to walk back to the spot he occupied. 

“You’re not helping this relationship situation,” Ryan backfired. “Why are you so hesitant to love me back?” 

“I am not hesitant!” Jon argued. 

“Then god damn it Jon, kiss me back for fuck’s sake,” Ryan shouted, forgetting that he wasn’t alone in the apartment complex. 

Jon pulled Ryan off the sofa and kissed him on top of all the papers. 

Ryan pushed his thighs lower so his pelvic area can hover over his own. His hands reached back up to hold his face, feeling the unkept feeling of his black hair in his fingers. He could feel Jon’s newfound drunken adrenaline to prove to him that he wanted their relationship to work.

Jon pulled Ryan’s hands off his face to put them on his hips, hoping to give Ryan what he wanted. 

What he didn’t expect was Ryan hands on his shoulders, pushing him off.

“I can’t do this, not when you can barely think straight. Please, Jon,” Ryan begged. 

“But I thought…”

“Jon, I want you. I could barely contain myself right now, but, I will not fuck you when you have a couple of beers in your body, not for the first time,” his voice trailed off as Jon let himself fall to the side. 

Mid-term exams were the last thing on their minds.


	4. shutter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Capture the moment (capture my heart).

“I forget you’re doing a photography minor sometimes, this is a time I wish I didn’t,” Ryan commented as Jon asked him last minute to pose for his photographs. Jon became interested in photographing Ryan as he watched him study and practice lines in his apartment. It was cliche, photographing your lover but Jon took that route anyways. They were queer art students that weren’t active in the community.    
  


“Sorry for the last minute announcement, now, I’m just going to spend an hour before work photographing you,” Jon replied as he inserted the roll of black and white film into his analogue camera. Ryan, dressed in nothing but a white t-shirt and ripped jeans was sitting on the window sill with his script in his hands.    
  


Just in the focusing Jon was breath taken from how  beautiful  Ryan looked in the natural light. The way his blue eyes just lit up when he looked into the camera or how his fingers gripped at the script.    
  


A session that was supposed to only be for a quick assignment turned into a few more rolls. One of Jon’s favourite pictures was after a morning of sleeping over, Jon was determined to photograph Ryan when he was half asleep, fumbling for his cellphone. Ryan was quick to catch Jon, but Jon was able to catch a couple quick shots of him, topless, with his brown hair in a mess in front of his eyes trying to bury himself into his pillow.   
  


Ryan could only follow along with Jon’s hand motions. Rarely did Jon tell him what to do, but his every move was being curated by the man behind the lens.    
  


“Ryan, stop smiling for a moment,” Jon directed. Ryan was quick to remove his smile and wait for the click of his camera. It didn’t happen. Jon reached out with his camera still in front of his face to touch Ryan’s face. He touched his lips and Ryan let Jon touch him until he curled his lips to kiss them. Jon pressed the shutter but did not remove his fingers from Ryan’s mouth.   
  


It was sensual, erotic, and sucked the air right out of Jon’s lungs. 

 

He pressed the shutter to find no release. He had run out of film. 


	5. act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Late night theatricals.

Jon was never really interested in theatre until Ryan’s major had sucked him in. He was memorizing lines just by listening to his boyfriend talk to himself. It became more apparent during the second half of the semester when all of Ryan’s homework was based on performance. The night of the show was getting closer and closer, and Ryan was the lead actor; making studying for Jon’s classes almost impossible. 

Jon found himself mouthing the lines with Ryan as he worked on his industrial design homework. He could've easily blocked it all out that evening with some music but he rathered to listen to Ryan not-so-quietly say how he was going to avenge the king.

“It’s ‘May the people see your cowardly soul for what it really is. I will with be the savior of the poor, of the lost, and I will rule this land with a true heart...’” Jon spoke aloud as Ryan worked on memorizing a scene. 

Ryan looked over to Jon, who was sitting at his kitchen table with his laptop open and three notebooks. He repeated the lines and he watched Jon’s lips move with the script. He paused to grin. It made him giddy, and motivated to read more lines just to watch Jon follow along.

“King! Get on your knees and beg for mercy! For I shall not let you live without a surrender to the kingdom,” Ryan recited. Jon was too involved in the scene as Ryan pointed his pencil at him, pretending it was a sword. Jon put his hand on his heart as if he had been stabbed.

“I will not surrender my kingdom to such a naive fool! In my last dying words, you shall not win!” Jon exaggerated his “death”. Ryan quickly walked over to him and held him in his arms. He was going to finally slay him when he could feel Jon’s body twitch from an held laughter.

“Jon, I can’t be a hero if you’re going to smile like that in death,” Ryan chuckled at the scene.

“I-I-I can’t help it, I’m so sorry, you were pointing that pencil at me with such danger,” Jon released. They laughed together until their stomachs hurt. Jon’s homework was forgotten and Ryan felt like his brain would melt if he continued. 

Jon looked up at Ryan, and while he had been in this position before, couldn’t help getting lost in his eyes. Ryan was silent, but smiling as he pushed Jon’s hair out of his face.

They were in the middle of act II.


	6. socialize

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College parties are drab.

College parties weren’t really their forte. Jon was invited and he dragged Ryan along. There was laughter, some indie music playing in the background from a record player trying to play over the musician’s cover of Depeche Mode’s _Enjoy the Silence_. The beer was local, and there wasn’t a trace of meat around.  
  


Ryan never quit Jon’s side. “I don’t know anyone here,” was his excuse. Jon knew a few, and they would catch his attention. Introductions were awkward when the theatre student barely spoke a word.   
  


“Let’s fuck in the bathroom upstairs,” Ryan whispered in Jon’s ear. Jon nearly spat out his beer.   
  


“That is direct,” Jon coughed. He wasn’t opposed to it, and Ryan kept pulling on the hooks of his jeans.    
  


Jon was holding onto the bathroom sink as Ryan cupped his face to kiss him. His tongue danced in Jon’s mouth, tasting the bitter beer. Jon felt Ryan’s pelvis rub against him and he couldn’t help but shiver.    
  


Ryan made his down down his chin, feeling the roughness of his beard scratch his lips. He continued down his neck, feeling Jon’s hitched breathing vibrate against him. His grip on Jon’s hips tightened as he felt his erection through his jeans.   
  


“There is only one bathroom in here!” someone banged on the door. Ryan pulled away quickly. Jon made sure his sweater was covering what he couldn’t hide. Time wasn’t on their side.   
  


“We’re leaving once we get out okay?” Ryan demanded. Jon nodded in agreement.   
  


Jon unlocked the door and slipped out with Ryan behind him as fast as he could. Jon wished good bye and good night to his colleagues before they left.    
  


The air was fresh and Jon wished he remembered a thicker sweater. Ryan slipped his hand in his as they walked back to his apartment.    
  


“Did you think we had the time?” Jon asked.   
  


“Not at all, gave you a good rush though,” Ryan chuckled. He noticed Jon shivering and stopped to take off his oversized military jacket and slipped it on his shoulders. Jon was speechless as he looked at Ryan stand there with only a white t-shirt on.   
  


“You need this more than me!” Jon took it off his shoulders to give it back but Ryan refused and fixed it back onto his shoulders. The fabric was heavy, smelled of cigarettes and burning church candles. It was even bigger on Jon’s frame and Ryan’s body heat lingered in the coat.    
  


Ryan never let go of Jon’s hand as they walked in silence for the remaining distance.    
  


“Sometimes I forget you don’t live here yet,” Ryan mentioned as they finally made it there.   
  


“It already feels like home.”


	7. restless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Music calms the soul.

Asking a theatre student to stay still and study for hours is comparable to pulling teeth. Ryan couldn’t keep his eyes on the readings for too long before checking his phone, another page, or to bother Jon.   
  


Jon had his headphones in his ears, because as much he loved his partner, his constant moving kept him from focusing on the readings. They had this quiz the next day, and they couldn’t keep slacking off.    
  


“Jon, I’m miserable,” Ryan told him. Jon couldn’t hear him, he continued to pay attention to his notes. “Jon.” He nudged his arm for him to take off his ear buds. Jon, felt the nudge and quickly ripped them out of his ears.    
  


“What?” he asked.   
  


“I don’t want to study anymore,” he groaned.   
  


“The quiz is tomorrow, babe,” Jon begged for him to stay still. They had only been in the library for an hour and they had 102 pages of readings to study. Ryan looked defeated and put his head down on the table. Jon sighed, hated seeing him in distress.   
  


He dragged his chair a little closer to him and put one of his headphones in his ear. Ryan giggled because Jon listened to movie scores when he studied.   
  


The music was calming, but dipped into stronger notes that could make his heart stop. He turned to Jon, who was back into studying mode. His shaggy black hair was tucked behind his ears as his eyes skimmed his notes.    
  


“You’re cute,” Ryan mumbled with a smile across his face. Jon didn’t hear him, again.

 


	8. sketchbook

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sketchbooks are for the artist's eyes only.

A sketchbook was something sacred and personal, like religion, and going through it without permission was sinful. Jon had rushed that morning out of Ryan’s apartment before nine o’clock. He didn’t make a sound and let Ryan sleep peacefully until mid-morning.  Ryan had found the black hardcover book on the kitchen table beside his half-empty mug of coffee. His fingers ran over the roughness of the cover, feeling the scratches from wear and tear. Papers stuck out from in between pages and a spilled tea stained the bottom right corner.   
  


He had watched Jon sketch aimlessly in it since he met him. He watched from afar, in the seats of the theatre when he wasn’t paying attention he pulled out a pencil, a blue 2B Staedtler pencil, and he would scratch the lead against the paper until he was satisfied with his work.  
  


Never had he asked to see what was inside, and Jon never showed him anything unwillingly. It’s how things were. Although, curiosity was getting the best of him and damn, the devil was winning.  
  


He slowly lifted the cover first, feeling the cardboard between his fingers. He anticipated the worst.   
  


The first page was blank. Not even his name. His name and phone number was written in the inner cover in top left-hand corner. He smirked before running his fingers down the page to turn the page and the first appearance of pencil marks made its entrance.   
  


Scratches. Dark lines and light lines. Light to dark. Nothing but lines and variable shading filled the two pages top to bottom. Ryan assumed he was testing out pencils or practicing his shading.  
  


He turned the pages and saw some nude figures among the sketches for his design classes. Women. Men. Young and old. He couldn’t remember if Jon had taken a figure drawing class in the past but as he turned the pages his lines were cleaner, more like the figure drawings he had seen in art history books. Twenty, perhaps, thirty, pages in that Jon sketched live action. Flowers in the park, buildings, and people. Smudged fingerprints were all over the pages -- he preferred smudging with his fingers.  
  


Ryan spotted when Jon developed his desire for him. It brought a smile and a blush to his face as he saw messy portraits of himself in costume or in thought. These sketches were hidden in between pages of ideas for his classes and they could easily be missed if one didn’t take the time to go through it. The portraits went on for many pages. Some were small, and there were a few full-page ones.   
  


He wished that he could draw like Jon could. He would love to capture all the detail of his face like he had. All the wrinkles near his eyes and the strands of hair that lingered in front of his eyes. The lines and cuts on his hands.   
  


Jon was capable of drawing him from vague memory. The few times he walked around his apartment in boxers inspired Jon to sketch him. Not did he mind, but he felt like Jon gave his body too much credit.   
  


Before he knew it, he hit blanks. The free papers were just assignment instructions that he loosely folded or stapled to the appropriate pages. Ryan gently closed the book, have seeing enough. The slow wave of guilt hit him that he peaked into Jon’s personal belonging without his permission. He swore he wouldn’t do it again.   
  


He pulled out his cellphone to text Jon: _“Hey, you forgot your sketchbook at my place. Do you need it?”_  
  


Jon soon replied with.  _“I did?! I’ll come pick it up in an hour. Don’t touch it.”_  
  


Ryan sighed and texted back: _“I won’t.”_


	9. exhibition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rejection is hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off: my life

_“Good Evening Jon Risinger,_  
  
_We would like to apologize..”_  


Jon deleted the email. It was the third one that week that began with the same sympathetic greeting. At first, it brought tears to the corners of his eyes. He wiped them away faster than the little whimper that exited his throat. He stared at it until it became a blur and he quickly moved it to the trash bin to prevent himself from getting too hung up on it.  


The second email brought him a numbing feeling in the pit of his stomach that convinced him that he shouldn’t try anymore. It was all a waste of time and effort. He wasn’t a good artist and his work wasn’t interesting enough.  


That time, the third time, he brought his legs up to his chest the second he saw the unread message in his inbox. He expected the worse, and he was right.  


He was alone in his apartment. No Ryan or roommate to comfort him this time. He looked at the time on his screen and knew that Ryan was at work for another hour or so. Though, it was late and he wouldn’t bother him for the third time about it.  


Jon’s cell phone buzzed an hour later. Ryan was calling him. He picked it up and took a deep breath.  


“So, did you get this one?” Ryan asked.  


“No,” Jon squeaked.  


“Really? I was sure you were going to get accepted to this one.”  


Jon didn’t reply.  


“Want me to pass by tonight?” Ryan asked.  


“Yeah.”  


“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”  


Ryan didn’t have to knock anymore to enter Jon’s apartment. He took a detour to pick up a bottle of Jon’s favourite red wine. Jon laid face down on the old mustard coloured sofa. He heard Ryan enter and he could only groan.  


“Don’t let it get to you like that dear, your artwork is incredible,” Ryan put the wine down on the coffee table before tapping his shoulder so he can sit down. Jon raised his upper half to only slump onto Ryan’s lap again.  


“But why won’t it get an exhibition?” Jon asked, muffled in Ryan’s thighs. He stroked his black hair, hoping to comfort him.  


“I don’t know. Don’t worry about it, there will be other opportunities. Don’t rush it dear,” Ryan calmly answered. After a few moments of silence from his lover he offered the bottle of wine. Jon rose to the idea and let Ryan get some glasses from his kitchen. Jon sat up on the sofa, with his knees brought to his chest.  


Ryan returned to the living room with two glasses and set them on the table before sitting back on the sofa. He pulled Jon into his arms--tried loosening him up. He planted a few kisses in his cheek before reaching over to open the bottle and pour them each a glass.  


“Drink away the melancholia, to stupid curators who don’t know what is good art,” Ryan raised his glass and clinked it to Jon’s before they drank it down. Ryan instantly regretted it but Jon was ready to pour him another glass.  


“You staying the night?” Jon asked before drinking down his glass.  


“I’m here, aren’t I? I don’t plan on leaving you tonight,” Ryan reassured him.  


The bottle was quickly finished by Jon, and Ryan let him. He blabbered about curators and directors of undergraduate galleries that didn’t know Dadaism to Romanticism. He was barely coherent when Ryan felt him get heavier on his shoulder. Ryan stood up and helped him get to his bed. It was small, unlike Ryan’s. Though, Ryan slipped in anyways and pulled the covers over them and watched Jon peacefully closed his eyes.

“Don’t leave in the morning, please.”


	10. proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sharing the space.

Making history was different than studying history. Ryan asked Jon to move in with him on a Saturday night after his first performance. It had taken weeks of rehearsals, of memorization, to finally say it all out loud. He was barely out of his costume when he rushed to Jon. He had finally figured out what they needed, what Jon needed.   
  


“Move in with you?” Jon repeated as he held on tightly to the big bouquet of flowers he had bought for Ryan’s first night. He hadn’t had the time to give it to him at the end and figured he would wait when he was out of his costume.    
  


They stood in front of the stage. The curtains were closed and the only lights were from the auditorium itself. Ryan was wearing his giant vintage Disneyland sweatshirt and he was still in tights.   
  


“Yeah, it would be incredible,” Ryan smiled as he watched Jon crinkle the shrinkwrap as his face turned a shade of red that he was oh-so familiar with by then.    
  


“I guess I’ll tell my roommate that I’ll be out by the start of the winter semester,” Jon bit his lip as he wanted to hide himself behind the giant bouquet. Ryan could only think how fun it would be to finally have Jon with him at home. No more division between themselves. They would finally share a space.    
  


Jon handed the flowers to him after he changed his bottoms. They were a mix. Jon had chosen every single one of them. Only one rose among various flowers.     
  


Ryan kissed Jon in front of the theatre. Their end-of-semester beards were rough against the others. Ryan smelled of hairspray while Jon tasted like peppermint gum.    
  


Jon went home with Ryan that evening. He had left his books and laptop there that morning. His possessions had already begun to find their place among Ryan’s. His past-works were hung up on the wall (Ryan really wanted them hung up. If he couldn’t get them on the wall for an exhibition. He could at least have his own in Ryan’s apartment).    
  


Jon crawled into Ryan’s queen sized bed, sleep coming to him almost immediately to the smell of lavender on his pillow. Ryan slipped in soon after him, pushing aside Jon’s hair away from his face.    
  


It was the last bit of tranquility they would get before finals. 


	11. turpentine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Visibly there.

“Jon! Open the goddamn windows if you’re using turpentine!” Ryan yelled as he walked in his apartment to the strong scent of pine. He opened all the windows he could to let the fresh winter air in. Slowly, the smell dissolved. Jon had pushed the kitchen table as far as he could to settle his easel and used a small used table to settle all his paints and his ceramic mug of solvent.    
  


Ryan looked at Jon, who had covered the floor in newspapers and wore an apron, yet, it didn’t do a very well of good job of keeping off his clothes. Jon had thought it would be a great idea to do more traditional art to inspire his designs.    
  


“Sorry, I didn’t smell it,” he shrugged. Ryan sighed. The complex could be on fire and Jon would think the heating was on too high. It was a perk he had to get used to. He took a stool and sat next to Jon to watch him paint before he had to go memorize lines.    
  


Jon’s painting skills rarely compared with his digital work but he still loved to watch him work. His brush strokes were messy, sharp, never fully blended into the neighbouring colour. He painted from photographs. Especially photographs of Ryan.    
  


“Your hair is hard to paint,” Jon mentioned as he tried to capture the random blond and red strands that mixed with his brown. Maybe the red he chose wasn’t thinned enough  because Ryan doubted he had that much red in his hair.    
  


There was a sense of bewilderment as Ryan watched the portrait of him asleep on the windowsill become more and more defined. He made that ugly mustard coloured sweater look fashionable. He put detail in the rip of the rip on his knees. He painted his eyes with the brightest shade of blue he could mix.   
  


The more he stared at it, the more he saw himself through Jon’s eyes. The way his eyes paid more attention to his face and his hands. His hands were painted with such detail, it made him look down at his hands and at all the crevices and scars.    
  


“Ryan, you got paint on yourself,” Jon said as saw the blue drop on his jeans. The same jeans he wore that afternoon. Ryan took a paper towel from Jon’s pocket and tried rubbing it off but it was no use, he only smudged it more into the fabric. Jon put down his brushed to damped a sheet with some turpentine and began sponging Ryan’s thigh.    
  


“Dear, it’s okay, stop, I don’t care for these jeans anyways,” he gently put his hand on Jon’s. The paint wasn’t going to come out.   
  


“Sorry.” Jon whimpered as he looked at the smudged mess. Ryan brushed his cheek with his thumb before giving him a kiss. He really should be memorizing lines by then and leave Jon to do this homework.    
  


“There’s nothing to apologize for, I knew how oil paints stained and yet I presented myself to you unprepared,” he sang to force a smile on Jon’s face again.    
  


“Such a drama king,” Jon laughed as he picked a different, smaller, brush to paint the leaves of the aloe plant that hung from the ceiling. The smile on Ryan’s face turned into a grin as he laid his head on Jon’s arm for a moment before he decided that he had to study those lines.   
  


He got off the stool and headed to their bedroom. Before leaving the room, Ryan took one last look at Jon. The sun was setting and it made the room a beautiful shade of orange and pink. His heart sped up in his chest as he thought of what he should say, what he always meant to say.   
  


“I love you,” Ryan said out loud. Jon looked up from his painting to those words. He looked at Ryan in shock. Neither of them had ever said it before but it was better now than too late. Their actions expressed the words for each other and perhaps, they never needed to say them but deep down, they both wanted to hear them.

  
“I love you, too.”


	12. apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No script.

He wasn’t a theatrical. Couldn’t act if his life depended on it. 

When the tears fell from his eyes, Ryan felt like he was witnessing a miracle from God. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw someone cry real tears that weren’t forced or acted. Jon was crying, because he had fucked up. He had made Jon cry and he stood there, watched him as he tried to make sense of what he could’ve done.

“I can’t believe you. I really can’t believe you. “ Jon sniffled as his chest heaved for oxygen to calm his blood pressure. His eyes were bloodshot from the crying session. “I knew I could never trust an actor.”

“Wait-” Ryan started.

“No! I’ve done enough waiting! This was important to me!” Jon shouted as he wiped his cheeks onto his sleeves. “I waited, waited, but you never came.”

Ryan opened his mouth but no words would be enough to defend himself. He crossed his arms across his chest. He wanted to hide from Jon. The spotlight was on him and in a very long time, he didn’t want to be the center of attention. 

“I know it was just a shitty little exhibition in a shitty little student-run gallery on the outskirts of campus. But, fuck, you knew, you know, how much it meant to me,” tears turned to anger and Jon looked like he need to punch a wall. His fists were tight and against his sides. “Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” he swore as he wiped the angry tears away.

“I-I’m” Ryan started as he backed up against the wall. Jon looked at him through his tears. Ryan was holding himself up against the wall. “I’m sorry.”

Jon sniffled as he couldn’t control his anger yet. He was restless in place. Pushing his sleeves up and pulling them back down. His eyes burned as he ruffled up his hair. Ryan wasn’t going to cry, Jon knew that. 

“Just, I don’t know,” Jon gave up before going to their bedroom. Whether or not if Ryan was going to follow wasn’t up to him. The anger, betrayal, frustration, disbelief, lingered as he got his emotions under control. He changed out of his day clothes and pulled on his favourite old t-shirt before crawling under the covers. 

Ryan felt guilty. He had forgotten the opening day of his boyfriend’s first group exhibition during rehearsal and long before he knew it, the opening was over and Jon was there, waiting for him at the doors. He had shown up, after the gallery had closed. He reached out to him, tried to apologize. Jon pulled away coldly. In that moment, Ryan knew that he royally fucked up. 

Ryan waited until he heard Jon’s low snore from the main room. He peeled off his t-shirt and jeans and carefully crawled into bed. He didn’t want to wake him up. In the dim light of the moon coming in from their window, he can see the wet marks on Jon’s pillow. He hesitated at first, but wiped away the tear on his cheek before settling in his own pillow.

Sometimes he forgets that reality is different than the stage.


	13. stress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stress strains the heart.

Exhaustion didn’t describe the aches well enough. It was beyond validation for the purple bags under their eyes.    
  


“Did you really have to make coffee at 3am last night? It woke me up and you know I have a class at 10am,” Jon asked as he tried to complete his design project on his computer. His eyes had lost their lustre as he darted from his work to the clock on the wall, watching time pass as he wished he picked an easier concept.   
  


“Uhm, yeah, I have my theatre history take home exam due tonight and I couldn’t keep my eyes open,” Ryan looked up from his reading glasses.    
  


Their apartment became a battleground for passive aggressive comments about the other. It would begin with a look, and then a sound, and then it would end with a bang. They couldn’t remember when it started or knew when it would all end.    
  


The bed felt too small. Too tight. He needed room to breathe. He was too warm.    
  


“Where are you going?” Jon mumbled when Ryan’s restlessness woke him up.   
  


“The sofa,” Ryan groaned. Jon sat up in bed and watched Ryan leave in the dim light of the moon shining through the curtains. Jon stared at the wall as his mind flooded with thoughts. He’s been cruel. He’s been a devil. He never meant to push him away.   
  


He couldn’t let Ryan sleep on the sofa again. He threw the sheets off himself and walked to the living room. He could tell Ryan wasn’t asleep yet, his nose wasn’t whistling as he breathed.    
  


Ryan heard Jon and turned towards him. Jon made his way to the sofa and urged Ryan to make him room. Ryan sat up and caught his eyes. He cupped Jon’s cheek and Jon rose his hand to his.    
  


“I don’t want us to fight anymore,” Jon admitted.     
  


“Me neither,” Ryan replied as he stroked his cheek, feeling the patch of skin above his beard.    
  


“Come back to bed, with me,” Jon whimpered before he moved closer, in Ryan’s lap.   
  


“I will,” Ryan kissed his head. They sat in silence, listening to their clocks tick on the wall at different speeds. Ryan’s grip around Jon would tighten periodically as Jon nuzzles his face in Ryan’s chest. It had been weeks since they had any physical intimacy and they missed it.    
  


Jon rose first, pulling Ryan’s arm behind him. They were both yawning. They were halfway back to their bedroom when Ryan stopped to pull on Jon’s waist.    
  


“Wh-,” Jon began when Ryan pressed his lips against his. It took Jon by surprise but he embraced it and let his hands cup Ryan’s face in return. Ryan pulled away as he needed to yawn. Jon smiled. “C’mon, let’s get some sleep.”  
  
The bed was comfortable again. 


	14. sweater

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Softer than cotton.

It was chillier than normal in the little student town that morning. Jon was woken up by the smell of coffee and the feeling of lips on his head. 

“I’m going to the theatre, I’ll visit you at the studio,” he heard Ryan whisper as Jon groaned to being woken up. He pulled the covers closer to his body. Ryan ruffled his hair before leaving. Jon only got out of bed when he heard the door lock. 

He had a lot to do that day and he dreaded all the work he hadn’t started yet. He sighed as he dragged himself to the kitchen to prepare himself a mug of warm coffee. The rain dribbled down the main window near the kitchen. Jon could see some fog along the other buildings and he hoped he wouldn’t get too wet on his way to class. 

While getting dressed, he accidentally tugged one of Ryan’s sweaters off the hanger. He caught it to put it back but the thick wool felt so soft. It was a dark forest green, a few holes at the hem, thrifted, and a size too large for either of them. 

He had worn Ryan’s t-shirts many nights before but nothing more. He had the most interesting wardrobe he had ever seen and he admired it. He looked at it, and he pulled it on without another thought. It was warm and it smelled of him. It made him smile and confident enough to conquer all his work.

He worked in the design lab for most of the day. The sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he cut the cardstock paper for his product design class. He heard a knock at the studio door and then the door opened.  
“Yo, my class got cancelled,” Ryan shouted as he saw his boyfriend carefully cutting a piece of paper. He waited for him to pause to wrap his arms around his waist from behind and lay his head on Jon’s hunched back. Jon put down the little knife to hold up Ryan’s weight on his forearms on the table. 

“That’s good news,” Jon laughed. Slowly Ryan unhooked himself to sit on the stool Jon wasn’t using.

“You’re wearing my sweater,” Ryan noticed almost immediately. 

“It’s cold out, my sweaters need to be washed,” Jon said as he returned to cutting another piece of his project. Ryan couldn’t help but admire how it draped on Jon’s body. His shoulder almost exposed as the neck had been stretched beyond repair. It hung loosely when he bent down, showing his stomach if you looked at the right angle. Ryan felt his face heat up as he stared at Jon.

“I’ll wash it and give it back to you,” Jon broke the silence.

“You can wear it whenever you want,” Ryan assured. Jon noticed the big cheeky grin across his face.

Jon smiled back. “That much?”

“Well, yeah, you should borrow my clothes more often,” he shyly replied. Jon stepped back from his work to stretch his arms over his head and the sweater rose up to show off the hair from his belly-button to his pelvis. “Don’t do that. Not here.” Jon chuckled as he cracked his knuckles.

“When?” he asked as he put the cap back on his knife. Ryan played with the cord of his open parka. He hopped off the stool and wrapped his arms around Jon’s upper body. Jon felt Ryan leave light kisses on his shoulder. 

“When I’m not afraid of losing you.”

At once, they felt grateful that they were alone in the studio because the silence was louder than any applause at the end of a show.


	15. crisis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The show must go on.

Jon was always there very early. He helped around with the last finishing touches. Mostly, he was there to help Ryan calm his nerves. He rubbed his shoulders as the makeup artist powdered his face with translucent powder.

“Actors, we have a crisis” the director announced in the dressing room. “Our Jessica has the stomach flu and cannot perform.” Everyone in the room was shocked and asked if the play would be cancelled that evening. “No. The show must go on. But we need an actor. Does anyone know her lines?” 

No one responded. The director looked ultimately defeated. Jon looked at Ryan and then took a deep breath. 

“I know most of the lines,” Jon said, hoping she wouldn’t hear. But she did, and she took a long hard look at him.

“Why the fuck not?!” she exclaimed. She presented him with the script and and a possible costume. 

Ryan found it all really magical. He had no idea how the play would go with Jon on stage and his mediocre acting skills. It was his turn to comfort him.

“No stress, we just go on stage in half-an-hour,” Ryan patted his back. Jon slumped in the chair. The costume was too loose in a few places and his hair was sprayed with more layers of hairspray than his own.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” Jon groaned. “I’m not even a theatre major!”

“It’s a short play we’re doing for the fundraiser, don’t feel too pressured. Besides, you’re going to be with me on stage, I’ll improvise if needed,” Ryan reassured. Together, they practiced their lines a little longer until it was time to be on stage. “Think of it as when I would rehearse with you at home.”

Jon admired Ryan’s confidence. The way his body moved so swiftly on stage and how he was able to portray his character so easily that even Jon was taken aback. Jon needed a little push, and when he faced Ryan on stage, he could feel his heart drop into his stomach.

Ryan was there, looking at him, and the words were coming out his mouth like he knew them. His body was stiff, but Ryan pulled him and pushed him. Swept him off his feet like the lover he was.

Soon, it became second nature, he knew these lines, he knew Ryan’s movements, and maybe he was fumbling his words a little... The costume was itchy and his face was sweating from the lights. 

“Ever since I started dating you, my kisses weren’t perfect, and everyone can see the difference the more I was with you. Did you ever care?” Ryan asked Jon as they quickly changed into their next costume. 

“I only got jealous at first, but I knew it was part of acting, and I had to get over it,” Jon quickly responded. “I also learned that whatever kiss you gave on stage, I would get a kiss like that too.”

Their conversation was cut short by their cue to be on stage. Jon was a little dizzy from the lights, from all the movement but he kept his eyes on Ryan who had probably gone onto improvising because Jon didn’t memorize this part very well.

When it came to Ryan kissing him, it was as natural to him as it always was. His hand on his lower back. Jon’s hands on his shoulders. He had even kissed him in costume before. 

The play was over before Jon knew it. Ryan had tugged on his wrist to pull him back behind the curtains. 

Jon pushed his hair out of his face before he walked with the other actors to bow. He wanted to be out of that costume, wash his hair, and go back to being the poster designer. 

“You did pretty good for someone who never acted before,” Ryan told him while they changed out of their costumes and back into their day clothes. 

“Yeah, well, if anything, it’s from watching you,” Jon blushed as he pulled his sweater over his head. Together, they left the theatre, laughing about Jon’s accidents on stage.

“Kiss me, like you did on stage again,” Jon let out. Ryan complied, cupping his face in his hands, cutting the crisp air to give him a deep, meaningful, kiss. He pulled away, but felt Jon lean forward. “Again?” Ryan smiled into his boyfriend’s lips feeling his warm breath in his mouth. 

“Again?” Ryan asked.

“Again.”


	16. sunday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Put it on silent and leave it alone.

It was the first Sunday in perhaps months that none of them awoke to the sound of a fog horn from their cell phones to wake them up for work. Ryan’s face was in the curve of Jon’s spine, sound asleep. Jon was in the early stages of waking up, a bodily habit at this point. Ryan’s arms were loosely around his waist. The sunlight couldn’t pierce the curtains and instead left leaks on the wall where it couldn’t block. 

Jon slowly opened his eyes and reached out to get his phone and triggered Ryan’s grip to tighten around his waist and pull him back. 

“How cares about the time? It’s our day off,” Ryan mumbled in his lover’s back. 

“I heard it buzz,”Jon replied. He twitched as Ryan kissed his spine, sending shivers into his arms and thighs. 

“Bullshit,” Ryan’s hands wander upwards to press his palms against Jon’s chest. “Relax.” The kisses turned into little bites and he can feel Jon turn into mush. He could feel his heart rushing as little broken breaths left his lungs. 

Jon held onto his pillow as he was pressed into the mattress, heaving, hot. Ryan was gentle, sometimes too gentle while Jon begged for teeth and nails. Ryan did comply, leaving purple marks down his neck and back. 

Jon is inexperienced in comparison but it doesn’t matter, he learned what Ryan liked quickly. Jon was past the first, the second, and the tenth, and it was their fiftieth and things flowed better than a perfect show or new brushes on a canvas. 

Ryan blue eyes were hooded, sultry, looked at Jon like he was a marble sculpture of a Roman god and Jon, Jon can feel his gaze, feel the lust that could turn them a dark shade of red. 

“ _James,_ ” escaped his mouth either during events of complete pleasure or during events of extreme rage and they both shook him like never before. 

Maybe they were due to clean the sheets, but Jon could only thank Ryan for using a rubber and not making a mess. Jon, on the other hand, needed a shower. A cold shower. Or else he’ll never get out of bed and that essay won’t write itself. 

“Your phone buzzed,” Ryan reminded him. Jon was a complete mess as he regulated his breathing. He inhaled the deep, salty smell, and groaned. 

“It’s our day off.”


	17. model

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pose for my eyes only.

Ryan was running low on cash quick. He was working long hours but living expenses and college emptied his wallet quicker than he could deposit it. Modelling was great, he was good at poses and playing in front of an audience. His shaggy hair, and growing beard was perhaps gaining the attention he needed to get more gigs.

He never went into detail about his modelling career with Jon. He never felt like he had to. Work was work. Sometimes, Ryan would come home with the magazine he’ll be showcased in and Jon would be so proud of him. 

Jon told him that he was the most beautiful man he ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on. 

It only made him more of a show off actor.

The option came to him while he was passing by the student cafe. It was on the billboard and he immediately wrote down the details and sent an email.

He was a bit nervous the first time around. He sat the little provided bench in the middle of one of the drawing studios with a robe on waiting for the instructions. As the students entered the room his palms began to sweat. The professor was kind, and gave him instructions and props.

The revealing was less awkward as he thought it would be. He came to the conclusion that he wasn’t the first male model. He held his poses, listening for his timer, and utilizing the props to create dramatic and interesting visuals. 

At the end, he would walk around to see all the figure drawings made of himself. Some in conte, some in charcoal and a couple did pencil. It was something to see a photograph of himself but nothing moved him more than seeing all the curves and lines of his body. Some had the time to draw his features, including the strands of hair that were out of place. 

It reminded him about Jon and his drawings. Jon had drawn and painted him many times before but he was almost always fully clothed. He wondered if Jon will ever draw nudes of him.

He didn’t think that the day would come sooner than he anticipated. 

“Ryan?” he heard Jon’s voice. He looked up from his timer to see Jon with his roll of newsprint and his little toolbox of drawing supplies. 

“You’re in this class?” he asked.

“Are you the model?” he countered in shock.

“Yeah. I just started modelling for the drawing classes,” he played with the robe cord. 

“What about the agency?”

“I’m still with the agency, this is just a little side job,” he reassured him. He got up to put his hand on his shoulder. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“I know, just, it’s not you and me, everyone else gets to see you naked,” Jon whispered. Ryan understood Jon, he would feel the same if Jon was in his place. But he needed the cash, and this is what he chose to do.

“It’ll be fine. It’s professional.”

They had to split to continue the class. Ryan made the mental note of keeping the poses quite conservative. He tried to not catch Jon’s eyes too often but when he did, he felt like he couldn’t let go. Grateful for longer poses, he would try to talk with Jon through his eyes. Jon avoided his gaze and looked everywhere else but his face during that time. Ryan found it a bit frustrating and upsetting to see Jon so distant when he could be encouraging.

At the end of the class, he slipped on his pair of jeans and vintage oversized band t-shirt. The students slowly left the class, telling him thank you on their way out. Jon waited until everyone was out of the class before he rose from his bench near his easel.

“Why do you do this to me? I expected you to be more supportive,” Ryan asked as he tied his shoes. 

“What do you mean?” Jon asked, looking down at him.

“I tried making you more comfortable. I tried catching your eyes. I tried and I never saw you so, so, not there, not here. I know it’s something professional but, c’mon,” Ryan got up, suddenly having that little height difference over Jon. 

“Want me to be honest with you?” Jon challenged.  
“Always, when do I not want you to be honest with me,” Ryan crossed his arms over his chest. Jon took a step forward, his face merely centimetres from his lover’s face,

“If I let sink in that the hot model in my figure drawing class was into me, his beautiful blue eyes staring right into my soul, I would’ve had the biggest hard-on ever,” Jon admitted, his cheeks flushed pink. He took a step back to see Ryan’s reaction better.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

Ryan’s own cheeks flushed as he looked at Jon, who seemed slightly embarrassed by his confession. 

“That’s pretty cute,” Ryan said. Jon relaxed a bit. 

“I’m just trying to keep things professional for you,” Jon continued. Time passed and they took the hint they should start heading home. “I’m sorry if I upsetted you. I never wanted that.”

Ryan slipped his arm around Jon’s waist in the empty corridor and kissed his cheek in silent forgiveness. Ryan took Jon’s roll of newsprint from his hand and placed it under his arm so he could have an open hand for him to slip his fingers into.


	18. cliche

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Home for the Holidays.

“Are you staying in town for the holidays?” he asked as the semester came to an end and the stress of finals lingered in their busy heads. They weren’t native to their college town. Both of them came from different states many miles apart from each other.

“Are you?” Jon replied, unsure himself. His mother had called him already a few times to inquire him to come home and spend Christmas with the family.

In contrary, Ryan barely had a family. He was mostly a lone wolf.

“Probably, unless my sister has plans, but it’ll mean a long trip to Georgia for nothing,” Ryan said as he sipped at his warm cup of tea. Jon had almost forgot about it and chugged half his cup, feeling it was getting room temperature.

“Unless you come with me for the holidays,” Jon offered. Ryan looked at him with half hooded eyes.

“Are you even out to your family?” he asked. Jon didn’t answer right away, giving Ryan the answer before it was even said.

“I’m sure they figured it out, I wasn’t exactly bringing home girls in high school,” he avoided a direct response.

“Do they know about me?” he asked.  
  
“They know you as my roommate,” Jon confessed. Ryan was a bit upset over it and he could see it across his face. “Don’t take it like that. It’s nothing like that.”

Jon placed his mug on the window-sill before rising up to put his hands on his lover’s waist. They were both people of the present, never lingering on the past or the future. Family was almost a thing of the past for Ryan and hearing about Jon’s gave him heartache. He considered Jon his family now.

“I love you. You’re my partner, and I wish it was easier to tell my parents about you,” Jon told him with big eyes. “I’ll stay here if you need me to. We’ll have Christmas together.”

News came in later that day that Ryan’s sister would be on her husband’s side for Christmas, leaving him without a place to go. He suddenly felt empty, hollow, and forgotten. Jon made the call only moments later to tell his mother he’ll be staying at school for the two weeks.

“-Maybe next year Mom, I have some projects to work on during the weeks I’m off. No, I’m not alone on Christmas day, some other classmates have to stay behind. I’ll call you in the morning okay? Talk to you soon, bye,” Jon lied and hung up. He had no idea if anyone else was staying behind, there was barely any work he could do during the holidays. He went to meet up with Ryan on the sofa. “I’m staying.”

Ryan moved so he can wrap his arms around his torso. Jon hugged him back. It was his first Christmas away from home and his head was filling with ideas on how to spruce up the apartment for the holiday.

Jon’s work hours were piling up while Ryan’s was slowing down. Jon didn’t mind, he had his eyes set on getting Ryan some books on astrology and theatre history.

On Christmas Eve, Ryan wanted to make sure that Jon would feel like he wasn’t missing out on anything. While Jon was at work, Ryan quickly scouted a tree small enough to fit in their apartment. Not much of a visual artist, he found some lights and ribbon to decorate the tree. He found a box of old Christmas ornaments at the vintage shop he adored.

When Jon arrived home after a very long day at work, he found all the lights to be off.

“Ryan? You home? I picked up some groceries,” he called out, hoping to get some help to bring the bags to the kitchen.

His vision was obstructed by a pair of hands. “I have a surprise for you, put down the bags first,” Ryan giddly welcomed. Jon let the bags drop gently onto the floor and followed him into their living room.

Ryan removed his hands to let Jon see his masterpiece.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous,” Jon said in awe.

“Can’t be Christmas without a tree,” Ryan explained. Jon was almost in tears as he turned to wrap his arms around him. “I can’t afford you a gift though in time, I’m sorry.”  
  
“You’re my Christmas gift, this is my Christmas gift,” Jon told him before he gave him a big peck. It warmed Ryan’s heart, pulling him closer. He couldn’t be happier and it could all make him cry, but he didn’t.

Christmas miracles do come true.


	19. abroad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They were like day and night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have returned.

Jon’s eyelids were heavy as he watched time pass on his laptop screen. Skype was open and his status had gone yellow for a while now. His sketchbook and pencils were thrown aside long ago. It had become a habit, a ritual. Every night at around midnight, he would wait for him. No matter what time his classes would start, he made the effort. 

He was about to fall asleep when the sound of a call woke him up. He quickly answered and waited for the webcams to come up. 

Jon smiled when it finally loaded and his boyfriend was on the other side.

“Good morning,” Jon wished as he fixed his headphones in his ears. 

“Good evening, how was school today?” Ryan asked. It was morning there, precisely 9:13am. 9 hours ahead of him.

“Alright, submitted my work to _Vertical_ and I’m almost done curating _Take Me Home_ ,” he said. Ryan nodded and smiled. “How’s Rome?”

“Rome is nice, the theatre classes are so much more demanding here, and they made me sing yesterday!” Ryan exclaimed. Jon giggled.

“You should sing more often, you have a nice voice,” Jon encouraged. The rare times Jon heard Ryan sing in the shower, it was deep and powerful. He sounded like he would do fine on Broadway. 

“Compared to my classmates though, I am off-key eighty percent of the time,” Ryan sighed as he pushed his hair out of his face. “I have a modelling gig this weekend in Milan. I might have to cut my hair for it.”

A bit of jealousy pulled at Jon’s heart. Ryan was accepted to study abroad in Rome for the semester at the _The European Union Academy of Theatre and Cinema_ and his modelling agency even scored him work while he was there. It’s all so, luxurious while Jon was sitting in their apartment working his normal part-time job. 

“You should go to bed,” Ryan said as he watched Jon’s eyelids droop. 

“Not yet,” he yawned. “Don’t cut your hair. I won’t have anything to pull on if you do,” he mumbled. 

“It’ll grow back by the time I get home, don’t worry,” he replied softly. Jon was trying really hard to not tip over and sleep. He wanted to see Ryan, hear his voice for a little longer. “I miss you you to death.”

Jon smiled and looked into the camera. “I miss you too.”

“I’m proud of you. You’re a great curator.”

“I’m proud of you too.”

There was a long, comfortable silence. Jon could hear the birds outside of Ryan’s window and people yelling in a language he wasn’t familiar with. He wished he could be there, experience Rome with his lover. Walking in gardens and into cathedrals with the smell of Italian cuisine in the air. 

“I’m going to start heading to class, _Buona notte, amore mio,_ ” Ryan wished in his beginner Italian. He leaned over and kissed the webcam. 

Jon’s tired, smiling face then lifted the laptop to his face to kiss his webcam. 

“Good morning, talk to you later,” he wished.  
  
The call had ended and Jon was alone again. He let his body tilt and fall onto his pillow. He closed his laptop and curled around the pillow, and let exhaustion engulf him.


	20. solitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Silence in a room of noise.

It was a different feeling, going to gallery openings alone. Ryan would always accompany him no matter how uninteresting he found the initial work to be.

There were a lot of people. Students, professors, and classmates alike. He would walk along the wooden floors and look up at the paintings, admiring the technique, the subject and the presentation. His brief step into the fine art made him more appreciative of the non-computerized work. It was more raw, more expressive than what he was used to. His eyes would dart from corner to corner, noticing the design elements by force of habit.

He sipped at his glass of wine. Not his favourite type but it was getting warm in the gallery and he welcomed it. He would step to the next work, slipping through the crowd of people to get a better view. The noise of people talking always seemed to irritate his personal reflection of the piece and he took a mental note to see it again once it was part of regular programming. 

He went to gallery openings to perhaps hear the artist talk on their intentions behind the series or the presented body of work. He met people, spoke to people, and exchanged ideas. 

This time, he felt like being invisible in the crowd. Ryan would naturally draw attention to himself and indirectly to Jon. He preferred the silence of not having to explain concepts and technique. The voices were being blocked out and he concentrated on were the colours and shape. Personally, he always preferred to form his own interpretation of the piece before reading the statement, but usually he was stuck reading to explain why the artist would’ve picked certain topics and what was the work actually made of.

His attention was interrupted when he felt a tap on the shoulder and was greeted by a classmate. He smiled, kissed her cheeks and asked her if she was enjoying the show. He became one of many and spoke about art and his classes in general. She turned her head to the sound of her name and she was forced to leave him. She waved goodbye and he was once alone. 

The room became unbearingly warm and he decided it was time to depart. He gave the open bar his glass back and left the room. The cool evening air hit his face as he opened the door. He breathed it in with relief and began his walk back to his apartment. 

The walk was long, a little worrisome but he never had his keys too far from his hands. He checked his phone often for the time. He would have to be home in half an hour to shower, work on some graphics on InDesign and get himself ready for Ryan’s call.

Daily life became stranger than when he had just began his studies and now with Ryan temporarily absent. He felt more mature, more independent. He felt less like an unsure post-pubescent adult without a clue on how to function on his own to handling the monthly bills, the rent, on his own without much guidance. Perhaps it was his coming of age; he was a late-bloomer anyways.

He unlocked the door to their apartment, meeting the darkness before flicking the lights on. Ryan’s presence never left the apartment. He had left behind a coat or two and much of his mugs and plants. The bed was left undone and Jon prefered the apartment a bit cooler than usual. 

He slipped out of his jeans and sweater, throwing them into the laundry basket he had bought only a few weeks before Ryan’s departure. He sat on the bed for a bit, letting the noise of the opening leave his mind. He only could turn on the TV to retain the presence of other people.

He would manage.


	21. baritone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canta per me, Giacomo.

Modelling didn’t need him to talk. A simple nod would do. They dressed him as they pleased, and dusted powders onto his face.

“ _Guardi sopra, per favore_ ,” the make up artist told him as she lifted his chin so she can fix his collar. He looked up into the studio lights that hung from the ceiling.

When she tilted his head back down he looked at himself in the lit mirror. His hair had gone through a transformation that even surprised himself. It wasn’t shaggy anymore, but groomed and the cut showed off his ears. He wasn’t used to feeling the wind on the back of his neck.

He swallowed often, trying to ease the lingering pain in the depths of his vocal chords. There was no time for him to take another sip of water. He would have to deal with it until after the photoshoot.

“ _È il tuo turno_ ,” he was told as he got off the chair and headed to the familiar white backdrop. The bright lights were nothing had seen on the stage as he played his part. He imagined himself a male counterpart to Venus herself, rising from sea foam and pulling in their gazes from the heavens above.

" _Que è il tuo nome, giovanotto?_ ” the photographer asked as he brushed his fingers across his forehead to place a stubborn strand of hair back in its place. He grinned, gave a chuckle but not a single word. He gave him his best mischievous look. He lightly stroked the curve of his jaw before he pulled away. He snapped a few pictures of him as he kept the grin.

When the shoot was over, he rushed to get a glass of water to cool the ache. It worked temporarily.

“ _Giacomo, Respirare più aria prima di arrivare nei note più alte. Il suono viene dal petto, meno dalla gola. Mettete la schiena un po 'più dritto per facilitare te stesso. Sei stato affranto dal tuo amore_ ,” his teacher stressed as he placed his hands on his back to push his chest front. His other hand was on his sternum, holding him as he took a deep breath of air and sand a note from the depths of his chest to perform. He sang until he was almost on his knees begging to quit.

“ _Buono,”_ he told him as he patted his back as he leaned onto his knees for proper air. His hair was stuck to his forehead as he pushed himself up. The old grandfather clock rang ten times, signalizing that the class was over for the day. He wished his teach good night and left the classroom.

“You sound like death, stop talking,” his roommate told him. He chuckled at he sipped at his tea. He look out the window, looking at the Italian architecture that he became a part of.

He thought of Jon, how we would want to photograph and paint all the buildings and people. How he would drag him to all the little cafes and chapels in the town. He we would teach him all the italian he learned.

He sighed, as he pulled away from the view.  
  
He was a breathless baritone.


	22. memoria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Open up the aperture.

Before he left, Jon placed it in his hands and told him to carry it with him wherever he went. It was one of his pride possessions and he felt like he was given the biggest responsibility. 

“I am terrible at photography,” he told him.

“Whatever you photograph is going to be a moment, a subject, that meant something to you,” Jon replied as he pulled some boxes of film out of the freezer. “Here are a few boxes a film to use.”

When he took it out of his luggage in Rome, he examined it first before putting in a roll of film. The wheel winded itself into place.

“Meant something to me,” he mumbled as he pulled the viewfinder to his eye and focused onto the window. It was mid-day in Rome and the sun lit up his room. He pressed the button and released the shutter. He turned the wheel for the next frame. “It would mean so much more if you were here with me.”

He carried it everywhere with him. Photographing the buildings, his classmates, flowers, his reflection in the wardrobe mirror when they cut his hair. It all felt empty, like he wasn’t worthy of the task. He photographed anyways. Using up all the film in the matter of a few weeks. He found more, and before he knew it, he had used ten rolls of 35mm film. 

The Roman architecture had long lost their touristic attraction, and they became the blurry images in between travels and classes. The language became a humming noise in his ears. His bed became an an empty sanctuary.

The camera became the one thing that kept him grounded. He took pictures of himself before he would go on stage to perform. He took pictures of his scripts, the props, anything that would make it feel like it was Jon all along taking the pictures. But, it wasn’t. It was him with his trembling hands that couldn’t take a proper picture of the night.

When the time came to pack all his things, he counted twenty films in total. He tucked away the rolls in the layers of clothes so they wouldn’t break during the travel. He made sure the camera was in his carry-on bag. He double checked for his passport and wallet. 

With the sound of the honk from the taxi outside his window, he threw his backpack over his shoulder and left the room.

There was no time for an encore.


	23. homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A blank canvas is never truly blank.

Ryan’s plane meant to land at eleven o’clock at night. It poured. It poured non-stop for many days. Jon held Ryan’s sweater in his arms as he waited at the terminus of the airport.

He watched the people around him reunite. Parents and sons. Grandparents and grandchildren. Tears were shed and smiles were made.

When he witnessed lovers together, his heart tightened in his chest with an unapologetic jealousy that made him look in the opposite direction. He had been feeling bitter like fresh coffee. He had been lonely for so long, that the anticipation of Ryan coming home was more like adding milk. Feeling him in the flesh would be the sugar.

He stroked the fabric of his sweater as he sat on the bench and listened to the noises around him. Cancellations. Delays. Due to the terrible weather. It was a thick sweater. Probably too warm for the humid weather.

His eyes glanced up to the arrivals often. His heart was getting impatient. His plane from Rome would land in fifteen minutes. Delayed. It was 11:15pm.

He ran his finger on the peeling logo. He picked at it. Peeling at whatever he could. It was an old Harvard University logo sweater that Ryan picked up last November when the weather got cold almost overnight. Jon wore it often during the last couple of months, when the days were long and the nights were even longer without him.

He looked up, and the plane had landed. He sat up and moved through the crowd to get to the front. Slowly, but surely, he saw the initials FCO on people’s luggage tags. His heart sped up to the point he would forget to breathe. 

He almost didn’t recognize him. The hair had caught him off guard. 

“Ryan! I’m over here!” he shouted to get his attention. He caught his eyes and his face lit up as he pushed his luggage to the end of the passageway to get to him. Jon pulled him into a hug as hard as he could. He buried his face in the crook of his neck and experienced him again.

“Let me see your face, Jon,” Ryan said as he cupped his cheeks. Ryan shed a few tears as he kissed his forehead and nose. “God, I missed you to death. I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” he chuckled as he felt Ryan’s lips on his face.

They stood in place for a few minutes to take it all in. Jon gave him the sweater, noticing how much tanner Ryan had become under the Mediterranean sun. 

“It hasn’t been pretty here the last few days, it’s been cold,” he explained as Ryan pulled the sweater over his head. “It isn’t as bad you made it out to be,” he mentioned as Ryan rustled his hair into place.

“It’s shorter than I’m used to. I’m glad you like it though,” he blushed as he helped Jon take his luggage off the carrier. Jon chuckled.

They sat on the bench outside the airport as they waited for the taxi to come. Jon leaned on Ryan’s arm as they watched the rain run off the roof of the airport. There was so much to say, to tell, and that for the moment, words weren’t necessary to start recounting the memories. They already saw the little bits of change in each other after seven months. 

They were only starting another scene.


End file.
